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i stuck my head above the parapet and look what happened....bird shit right on my eye...

serves me right really...

looks like summer is a bummer......

stuck on here again with nothing, absolutely fuck all to do.....posting and warbling about an odd man i saw on the way to the shops or films or books i've done or a girl in a magazine that i'm in love with or an idea i won't go through with or travel tipes for places i won't travel to or why the penguin biscuit has lost its way and, as ever, the tunnocks wafer is daddy.

''it's only just beginning to occur to me that it's important you have something going on somewhere, at work or at home, or you're just clinging on. if i lived in bosnia, then not having a girlfriend wouldn't seem like the most important thing in the world, but here in crouch end* it does. you need as much ballast as possible to stop you floating away; you need people around you, things going on, otherwise life is like some film where the money ran out, and there are no sets, or locations, or supporting actors, and it's just one bloke on his own staring into the camera with nothing to do and nobody to speak to, and who'd believe in a character like that? i've got to get more stuff, more clutter, more detail in here, because at the moment, i'm in danger of falling off the edge''

you think you're about to get to sex land but then they give a flimsy excuse as to why they can't come out and a half-hearted attempt at a reschedule for the weekend......ahem.....and...y'know.........no coconuts n' that.

or sirens....fucking sirens....leading us astray.....taking us away from our path until we believe that the detour towards the heaving rock formations is good and just and enjoyable and not a fucking detour into splinters.

i need to stuff myself with the cultural equivilant of cheese and salad cream on toast washed down with milk and bourbon creams. everybody loves raymond or summit. something blunt to take the shine off any real feelings that could be matched in text.